


In Which There is a Laser Pointer

by adreaminglamb, word_processing



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: And a more than a little meta, Canon Compliant, Explicit Sexual Content, Intimacy, It's a little bit of an AU, James is also a little like a cat, M/M, Non-Sexual Intimacy, there are cats
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-20
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2018-05-14 17:22:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5751721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adreaminglamb/pseuds/adreaminglamb, https://archiveofourown.org/users/word_processing/pseuds/word_processing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bond must like breaking into Q's flat because Q got home one evening to find him sitting in the living room playing with the cats. Tesla and Rochester seem very enthralled with Bond and his laser pointer. Traitors.</p><p>Or the one where Q's favorite books are trashy spy novels and James thinks this is humorous.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you very much to my beta Emily!
> 
> This is to my lovely artist Lamb!
> 
> Here's a link to her work: http://adreaminglamb.tumblr.com/image/137744158342

Andrew Lighter had been a staple in Q’s life for about ten years now, even if he hadn’t written anything since 2006. Still, this man had gotten Q through his second and third graduate degrees and one PhD. Not only did he get to live the adventures of Naval Intelligence agent during the 1950s but God, the main character was attractive. He was fairly certain that the author wasn’t trying to appeal to just straight females.

Anyway, these books meant a lot to Q, dime store spy novels or not. They were funny, they were clever, they were sexy - everything a twenty-year-old could ask for after being recruited by MI6.

Not that being recruited had anything to do with him picking up spy novels at the university bookstore. And if it did, it hardly mattered since he wasn’t a field agent, he was in R&D. There were people better suited to hanging off buildings and participating in high-speed chases because Q was definitely not one of those. He couldn’t even ask his TA out for coffee, much less make a room full of beautiful women swoon.

Lighter’s books sat on a shelf in his living room, all in order. He hated the way they looked, beat up but it made them look well read and well loved, which they were. Q had one rule about the books though, they never came to work with him. He would never hear the end of it if someone found out about his…affection for the series.

Q didn’t fancy being ridiculed, he was a MI6 executive after all. Not that anyone took that into account, Q could name a handful of people on a daily basis who seem to show him no respect. Most often and as of this moment, it was James Bond, who was currently stalking through Q-Branch with a water damaged computer chip that Q was apparently supposed to fix.

“And how exactly did this happen?”

“I was thrown from a Russian war ship into the Black Sea.”

“You couldn’t have put it in a plastic baggie or something?”

“Yes Q, I will remember that next time I am in a war zone. Bring a ziplock bag.”

Q just stared at him for a moment and Bond stared back. Q knew for a fact that James did not have to blink for a good five minutes, so after about thirty seconds, he looked away.

Q pointedly turned his attention back to his computer, “Thank you, 007, I will see what I can do. Have you been to see Medical yet?”

“I don’t need Medical.” Came the terse reply.

“Indeed, then you have time to clean up the blood you’re dripping on my floor.” He replied and looked down at the growing puddle of blood dripping slowly down Bond’s hand to puddle on the concrete floor. That’s going to leave a stain.

“Yes, well…” Bond started and then nodded curtly, looking almost embarrassed like he hadn't noticed. “I will call someone from housekeeping to come down.”

That was all Q got before the agent turned and left. He called Eve to make sure Bond actually made it to Medical while he mused about whether or not James actually had any nerve endings left to feel pain with.

Q sighed and buried the computer chip in a bag of rice to be dry out overnight. M didn’t need the information right now, or rather, he could wait until tomorrow. Pushy bastard.

Q went home to his cats and his books and pretended he wasn’t living a bit of a stereotype.

\----

The computer chip didn’t have any useful information, but it took Q two days and an expensive bottle of wine to figure that out.

Q didn’t see Bond for another two weeks after that, the man was a bloody ghost. He supposed that was the point, but Q did have a new sniper rifle waiting for him when Bond got back. It turns out that the man was very appreciative of that because he left Q a cat scratch post with a ribbon tied around it.

Q was almost thankful, but then he had to bring the bloody thing home on the tube.

\---

Q was sick during November with an upper respiratory infection that he just couldn’t seem to kick. He was on his second round of antibiotics and much as Q would have like to stay home and wallow in his sinus pressure he couldn’t. He went to work, bundled up and carrying a tissue box around with him.

Bond took one look at him and left his office only to return a few minutes later with much higher quality tissues and a tube of cream for his raw nose. He set the two items in front of Q like a wolf proving to a potential mate that he can provide. It almost made Q laugh because the tissues are clearly from M’s office as they even read ‘GM’ on the side in large Sharpie print.

Q didn’t peg Bond as the sort of man to fuss and he doesn’t. He just leaves his offerings on Q’s desk and the Quartermaster said, “Thank you, 007. R has something for you to -achoo- do. You can see her upstairs by the archery range.”

Bond nodded and swept out of the room like Death personified in a bespoke suit. Q hiccuped.

Q didn’t realize that his book was gone until he got home. He had made the mistake of taking one of Lighter’s books to the office with him and tried to hide it, but Q knew there was no hiding things from spies. It was Bond, it had to be Bond. He was the only one in his office that day besides Tanner and Eve, and they have no interest in his books. In fact, Eve had gifted some special editions to him on occasion.

Q was surprisingly calm about this development, seeing as he had not wanted this guilty pleasure getting out. He sat with his cats, curling up on the couch watching Star Wars like the ill person he was. The gap in his bookshelf between the second and fourth books in Lighter’s series made him twitch a little.

M had told him not to come into work the next day. Apparently the chief of Medical had been standing in his office at the time, glaring at him until he was forced to give Q a few days off. Q didn’t need much convincing. He had finished Star Wars and was starting in on The Hobbit. His cats meowed mournfully, they had been hoping for Star Trek.

\---

It took Q three days to get back on his feet. He felt decidedly better after a shower and some clean clothes. He arrived at the office before anyone else and found his book on his desk. A pastry box with a cupcake and some tea were next to it and Q had to smile a little.  

The smile didn’t last long as he opened up the book. There was red pen in one of the margins, underneath the crease of the dog-eared page was a note.

‘Remind me to buy you a bookmark. -J’ it read, in James’ thin cursive.

Q was furious, he did use bookmarks. How dare James tell him about defacing books when he was writing in them and in pen no less.

Q had to count his blessings though, when he saw Bond later that day, the book tucked away safely in his locked desk drawer, the man said nothing about the book or the treats he had left Q. He just picked up the things he needed for his next mission and was off.

\---

Bond ended up in Medical after his mission, they had to sedate him for the first few hours so he would lay still. When he woke up, Q came downstairs to look at him disapprovingly, arms crossed and foot tapping on the tile floor. The Double-Ohs had a custom where they brought each other flowers when they were on bedrest. It was suppose to be ironic, having eleven massive flower displays in your room from trained killers, but Q suspected the emotions behind it were somewhat genuine.

“Did you get my gift?” Bond asked, sitting up, shirt off and his shoulder wrapped up tightly. Q tried to look at his face and not the man’s pecs or abs and any lower which he was not convinced was covered by any more than a sheet because Bond was awful.

“What gift?” Q blushed, his mind going to the book and the cupcake from the week before.

“The computer chip? I pulled it out before I blew up their server, I thought you might find it useful.” Bond seemed almost hurt that Q hadn’t remembered, but Q hadn’t known it was from Bond’s mission, it had been placed on his desk in a baggy labeled LOW PRIORITY.

“I’m sure it just got caught up in all the other paperwork for the mission, I will take a look.” He promised. Bond nodded and tried to sit up a little more straight, wincing. Q just glared at him.

“You should just lay there, there’s no use in struggling. Should I send for something to entertain you?” He asked, feeling a little sympathy for James’ plight.

The man looked up at him, unsure for a moment. “A laptop or a tablet will do.”

Q nodded, “I’ll have one brought down. Please don’t give the nurses any reason to sedate you.” He said and left.

Q got the tablet back the next day when Bond was released, the nurse asked what he said to Bond because the man had never been that well behaved before. Q wasn’t sure what to say to that.

Bond disappeared in Morocco the next month, he was gone three days before Q finally gave up worrying - he would resurface, he always did. R took over Q-Branch and Q went home for some much-needed rest. All Q could manage was to feed his cats, shower, and fall into bed.

Q woke to a weight on his bed, heavier than either of his cats. He blinked a few times, first at his open bedroom and then to the figure on his bed, tired blue-eyes and a mouth set in a firm line. Even though he recognized him, Q still jumped.

“Q,” Bond said, in the same tone he used when they first met, but the amusement was replaced with reverence. Q shivered a little, which he blamed it on the open window and his lack of shirt.

“What are you doing here, Bond?” He asked, not asking in the voice of a Quartermaster. Q reaches to turn on the light and jumps again at the sight of Bond’s wound, a cut on his forehead, his blond hair matted with blood. “Jesus, Bond, have you been to Medical? You need to go, that looks really bad.”

Q was saying all of this but he was already sitting up and tinting Bond’s face into the light to see the wound.

“Didn’t want to go to Medical.”

“So you came to me?”

“Yes.” Bond sounded a little like a caveman, voice gruff and sentences clipped. Q knew this meant it had been a rough mission.

Q sighed, “Go into the bathroom, I’ll be right in.” He waited for Bond to get off the bed and headed to the bathroom before he got up and pull a shirt on.

He joined Bond in the bathroom with a scotch and a first aid kit. The agent seemed very appreciative of the drink and didn’t put up a fuss when Q patched him up.

It took about half an hour, half an hour of Q standing between Bond’s legs, cleaning the blood and dirt off him and putting some bandages on the wound, thankfully it wasn’t deep enough to need stitches. Bond was patient, looking up at Q against bright bathroom lights with a look that would have given him pause if he hadn’t had a task to keep him busy. Bond couldn’t possibly mean that look, that looks of devotion; revolutionaries get that look, book characters get that look. Not James Bond.

Q had expected Bond to leave right after, to climb back out the way he came, but he clearly needed more than just medical attention. Q made up the couch as Bond got into a staring contest with his cats. The man was still not saying anything. Q understood though, he had seen some of what agents went though, he didn’t blame Bond for needing to be quiet and somewhere safe. Q was happy to be that somewhere.

In the morning though, much like he suspected, Bond was gone, blankets and sheets all folded on the couch, pillows neatly arranged. Q smiled a little, at least he was a polite houseguest.

It took Q until after breakfast to notice one of his Lighter books was gone. That son of a bitch.

\---

The book was there on his desk when he got to work. There was a note at the top of one of the pages.

‘Really Q? You keep this next to your Dickens and your Bronte? -J’

Q bristled, the man was teasing him after stealing from him. But still, it was a little like a game so Q countered, writing in pencil of course.

'Bond, not only have you stolen my book from my home but you have defaced it. You must really want a water gun for your next mission. Q'

Q left it sitting where Bond could easily find it but no one else would see it. Then Q waited. It didn't take long, it was back on his desk before he left that night.

'I'm merely concerned for your taste in literature. And a ball-point pen moves very nicely across this paper. -J'

'My reading choices are none of your business. Now if you would please leave my book alone. Q'

Q wrote this and meant it but he still left the book for Bond to find. The book goes missing for a week and then reappeared on Q's desk after Bond had left for another mission. In it is a little doodle of what he supposed is him holding a book and shouting "MY BOOK!"

'I don't look like that! Stop writing in my book. Q'

Q’s indignance was probably palpable, but he had to admit that he looks forward to every one of Bond's notes. It is a different sort conversation that he's ever had with the man and he's beginning to find this side of Bond very charming.

\---

Bond arrived back from Paris with pastries, presenting them to Q with a mostly intact gun silently. It makes Q shiver, the intensity of his gaze like that night in Q's flat. Q would never get used to the different sides of this man he kept encountering.

"Thank you, 007." He said and it took another minute for Bond to nod and turn to look around the workshop.

"What is this?" He asked and picked up a new, half-finished handgun.

"A modified handgun, I'm designing it to also shoot shotgun shells."

There's an almost childlike grin on Bond's face, "Q, you never cease to amaze me."

\---

The next note in the book came the next morning.

'No.'

Then in a different colored pen, 'P.S. You write in it too. -J'

'At least I do it in pencil. And it is my personal copy. Q'

'Good, I don't know what we would have done if it were a library copy. -J’

\---

Bond started showing up more in Q’s lab, commenting on and testing the tech that Q is working on. Q was a little disturbed and disrupted by all this time together, but James seemed to crave it so he let it go on. The notes in the book continued, sometimes Q would change up the book from Lighter’s series but the conversation stayed the same; at this point, it had somehow turned into blatant flirting.

Bond continued to deposit food on Q’s desk, he never said a word. He would just set it on Q’s desk and go to look at something or Q would get back from a meeting and there would be a bag of takeaway for him.

Somehow Bond figured out what cupcake shop is Q's favorite and after that, every afternoon there was a brightly colored cupcake box with some large sweet cupcake. It took Q most of the day to eat it, saving some of it for after dinner. They are all very good, every flavor was perfect; some of them Q had never even heard of like Bond had asked for something special and new. Q liked those the best, the ones Bond had made up.

Bond brought dinner for the both of them one night - Q was working late and Bond had a midnight plane to catch to Madrid. Q didn’t question the gesture and they sat on either side of Q’s desk making idle banter, mostly on the subject of Q’s two cats. Bond argued that Tesla and Rochester weren’t real cat names and Q asked what defined a cat name. Bond had no answer for this so he dropped it.

Bond came back from Madrid a week later but Q didn’t really hear from him, the agent checked in with all departments and then went dark. Though they knew he was in London, it was another couple of days before he showed up at the office like nothing had happened.

\---

‘You have to like other books than this. -J’

‘I do. I like Huxley and Orwell and Wells. Also the old Gothic and Romance books and poetry. Q’

‘Why am I not surprised. -J’

\---

Bond must like breaking into Q's flat because Q got home one evening to find him sitting in the living room playing with the cats. Tesla and Rochester seem very enthralled with Bond and his laser pointer. Traitors.

"What are you doing here?" It came out like an accusation though Q hardly meant it that way. He set his things down and walked into the living room, turning on another one of the lamps. Bond just gestured to the cats and the laser pointer in answer. So Q’s next question was “Where did you get that?”

“The pet store. Watch this.” Bond said and clicked the little button on the side and the one dot turned to many, falling over the wall and carpet. The two cats seemed very pleased with this development and pranced around, attacking every dot they could get their paws on.

Q was a little dumbstruck, James Bond, the finest Double-Oh agent Britain had ever known, had gone to the pet store and bought a laser pointer just to come and play with Q’s cats. He wasn’t sure what to make of that. “Can I…get you something to drink? Coffee? Tea? Water maybe?”

Bond shook his head, “No, they seemed pretty sharp last time I was here. I thought I might enjoy this and they do.” Bond seemed very proud of himself.

Q sat on the floor with him for a while, watching the cats play. Bond didn’t move, didn’t make any sort of expression of joy or sadness. Q really wasn’t sure what to do with this. After a while he started to get up, “I should make some dinner or something. I have to eat.” Bond reached up and grabbed his arm, hand sliding down to grip Q’s hand when the quartermaster turned his head to look at him.

“Do you still have that first aid kit? With the nettle and thread?”

For the first time, Q noticed the blood stain on Bond’s dark blue shirt. He swore and closed his eyes for a moment. “Yes, I do to the bathroom and take your shirt off. I’ll be in in a minute.” He instructed and Bond nodded, getting up and dutifully doing what he was told.

Q arrived in the bathroom muttering about agents and not starting with the important things. He glanced at Bond and then at the whiskey in his hand, downing it himself. Bond was very distracting. “It’s not bad, it looks like most of the bleeding has stopped. Sit up a little straighter for me.” Q leaned down to examine the knife wound, judging by the fact that Bond’s shirt was not ripped he guessed that the man had changed. Idiot.

“You’ll be fine. Do you want something for the pain?” Q asked, looking up at the man and finding himself very close. He swallowed, surprised by the intimacy of the moment, Bond looking at him like he was the object the universe revolved around. Q’s grip tightened, like he might fall without it, and Bond winced. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright.”

That’s the last thing Q remembers before he was sitting on his bathroom counter, James Bond between his legs. He moaned softly into the kiss with Bond as their hands scrambled for buttons and zippers, trying to get naked as soon as possible. Bond let Q breathe for a moment so they can both get their trousers open. Q shoved his trousers down off his legs with one hand while the other searches in the medical cabinet for lube and a condom. He almost missed the sight of Bond taking his cock out of his trousers, stroking in a few times before taking the lube from Q’s hand and lifting him back onto the counter, perching him just on the edge.

Their kiss isn’t even really a kiss anymore, it’s teeth and tongue and hot breath against each other’s cheeks as Bond worked a slick finger into Q. It’s surprising gentle and Q clung to Bond, their eyes open and making this surprisingly intimate. Q isn’t sure why he’s letting this happen, he thought about Bond this way a few times, he was a very attractive man, but it’s breaking rules and Q likes rules. Rules are there for a reason. Bond had no use for rules though and Bond was there for a reason as well. This was the logical next step, the one way to relieve the tension between them even if Q was feeling all of the tension for the last few weeks, months even, right then in that moment.

Q cried out softly, he somehow missed the second finger and now Bond was on his third. Q’s feet scramble for purchase on the title floor, the only thing holding him up really is Bond’s arm around his waist and the edge of the counter pressing into his arse cheeks.

“I have you,” Bond whispered and Q’s chest tightened as Bond pulled his fingers out, fumbling to roll the condom over his cock and slick himself up. God, Q was very fascinated by that cock, he had heard what it could do. Bond locked eyes with him one more time before pressing in, pulling one of Q’s legs around his waist and sliding in, blue eyes still locked on Q’s.

What Q had heard from missions was wrong, that was not Bond fucking, that was business. First of all, Bond never made a sound during that and now Bond grunted against Q’s open mouth with every thrust. Second of all, the sounds Bond’s partners made their sex sounds and this was not sex, this was all consuming and Q hardly felt the actual sex going on. Q could feel this in his bones and he knew Bond could as well, they hadn’t lost each other’s gaze and they breathed together opened mouthed.

And like all good things it was over too quickly, Q came and the twitching and spurting of his cock seemed like an afterthought. Bond came quickly afterwards, holding tight to Q, the younger’s body still shaking from the aftershocks. Q was sticky and sweaty and over tired, too well fucked to do much more than go kitten weak in Bond’s arms and that’s what he does. Bond didn’t seem to mind and whispered, “I have you.”

Q woke up to the morning sun and soreness. Bond was nowhere in sight and Q isn’t surprised, isn’t even bothered really, he had expected no less. He got up slowly, pleased with his sore muscle, he always enjoyed that feeling. Q found breakfast on the kitchen counter with the little pet store laser pointer sitting next to it like the prize for a cereal box. Q smiled.

\---

Bond showed up a few days later at Q's flat with a bag of take away around dinner time. "How do you feel about Korean?" Is all the man said and Q, never one to turn down free food simply nodded. To mention the sex would be to spoil it so neither of them do.

Bond didn’t leave after that and soon, there are two toothbrushes in the bathroom and the closet is being divided. Q isn't sure how it actually happened. He swore it was out of nowhere but there had always been a certain level of...comfort between them. The notes in Q's books stop but James continued to tease him. (That's the other thing, Bond became James and he's not sure when that happens but it felt right.)

James continued to tease Q about his reading choices, with James leaning over the back of the couch to watch Q read the fifth book in Lighter’s series. “Are you enjoying yourself?” He would ask.

“Yes.”

“Is there anything I can do to make you enjoy your time more?” Q raised a brow at him because he recognized that voice.

“And how might you do that?”

“Like this.” James would say and lean to kiss Q, seamlessly finding his way over the couch to be on top of him and pushing the book out of Q’s hand, leaving it open on the floor so the man wouldn’t lose his page.

That was the other thing about James being here. All the sex. The wonderful sex. The hours of sex. Q didn’t know you could have this much different kind of sex so often.

\---

About a month into whatever they are doing, Q was hesitant to call it a relationship as he is still certain James will come to his senses one day and walk out, Q had finished rereading the series and is lamenting the fact that Lighter just stopped writing.

“I just… He stopped and that was it. It’s not like there isn’t another story to tell after the murder of his lover. You would think Fleming is the sort of person to avenge that.” Q was pouting, laying in bed with Bond next to him to his side.

“Why do you call him Fleming, I thought his name was Ian?”

“I don’t think he would like being called Ian, only his mother and Anne call him Ian.” Q remarked, looking over at James and caught the man smiling a little.

“Is this what you did to prepare for MI6?” He teased.

Q blushed, "I wouldn't say that, but it helped me deal with agents, especially you." He poked James in the chest and the agent smiled, sweeping him into a kiss and after that Q was glad he hadn't gotten up to shower yet.

\---

James apparently did have his own laptop and since he returned from a mission in Quebec, he’d been working on it a lot but would always shut the lid if Q came into the room.

“What are you doing that’s so secretive?” Q asked, teasing him as he wrapped his arms around James’ waist and smiling up at him. “You’re not having an affair are you?”

James got very serious, gathering up Q in his arms. “Never. On my life I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Q smiled, “I know, love. It’s okay.”

Still James looked a little guilty, and the next day when Q got to work there was a bag of food from his favorite cafe, full of breakfast treats and a fresh, hot cup of tea next to it. Maybe this boyfriend thing wasn’t so bad.

There were parts that were bad of course, one time James came home from Kenya and hardly spoke. Q didn’t know the details of the mission as he hadn’t been in charge of it, but he had heard on the news about a tragedy and he could tell from the way James was carrying himself that he felt to blame.

Q couldn’t let that stand and had dragged James first into the shower and then into bed where he held the man and shushed him until he finally fell asleep, half believing in the words Q said to him.

James went silent for a full twenty-four hours on his next mission and Q didn’t want to be concerned, except that when James made contact again he was in Barcelona getting a tan at the rooftop pool of some expensive hotel. Q had a field agent at the Barcelona office punch James in the face before putting him on a plane back to London. James winced every time Q kissed him on that side of his face for the next week and Q smirked.

“What is this?” Q asked a few months later, there’s a cupcake sitting on top of a newspaper clipping on the counter. Q was used to James leaving him things; equipment, food, tech from missions. It was like a cat leaving a dead bird at their master’s feet. Q had grown to find it cute.

James hardly looked up from his phone, “Hmmm? What’s what?” He glanced up just in time to see Q lift the clipping into the light so he could read. “Oh, that. I thought you might like it.” James was smirking and Q couldn’t breath, the headline read in big bold letters.

‘Andrew Lighter’s sixth novel, after a ten year hiatus, is set to release in June.’

“I saw that this morning while getting coffee and I thought you might finding it interesting.” James was still smirking, clearly pleased with himself.

“This has to be a fake. Authors don’t just come back after a ten year hiatus. I was fairly certain he was dead.” Q was adamant about this as he walked towards James on the couch.

James just raised an eyebrow, “You think a man who writes characters like Ian Fleming is that easy to get rid of.” He put his hands on Q’s hips and brought the man into his lap, smiling at him. “Are you happy?”

“Ecstatic,” Q smiled, kissing him. “You know this is all you’re going to hear about for a while. June is a month away.”

“I don’t mind, I’m sure I can come up with something to distract you.”

“Oh, Mr. Bond.”

\---

When James said distraction, he didn’t expect a bullet to the stomach. Q refused to leave his side except when another agent needed him in Q-Branch or Eve and the others forced him out of James’ room. The agent was out cold, all those ironic flower arrangements from the other Double-Ohs had doubled in size. The doctors promised he would be fine and while Q trusted science more than anything else, he refused to simply wait because waiting was awful.

Q laid there next to James in the hospital bed, his hand over James’ heart as he counted the beats in time with the monitor. This was normal. This was on track. There were no surprises, no surprises were good. Of course that was when a phone started ringing. Q didn’t recognize it at first as it was neither of their work phones but James’ extra phone. It wasn’t uncommon for agents to keep an extra mobile number for contacts and personal calls.

Q, somewhat against his better judgement, picked it up. “Hello?”

“Hello, Mr. Lighter? This is Kathy from The Macmillan Group. I’m just calling to tell you that we got the first print of _Goldeneye_ in today. You’re welcome to come in and look at them if you’d like. We’re having a box shipped to you home today, of course, for friends and family and the like.” The voice on the other end was sweet and young, she paused. “I just have to say, Mr. Lighter, I am so glad you decided to start writing again, I love your books.”

Q hung up, sitting up ramrod straight on the bed. He couldn’t believe it. He wasn’t quite sure how to process this news. He glanced back at James, lying unconscious in a hospital bed and looking every bit the blue eyed, English orphan he was. And he had lied.  

“Bastard.” Q muttered and got up off the bed, gathering his things and leaving Medical in a hurry, brushing past shocked nurses on his way out. Kathy from The Macmillan Group must be pretty efficient because there was a box on the doorstep and it was full of books. They’re nice, heavy paperbacks just like the others. They really are beautiful, a red cover with a black silhouette of a man holding a gun and a tropical landscape. In large gold letters, ‘GOLDENEYE’ is printed across the top. The name is familiar to Q.

Q opened to the first page partly out of giddy interest and partly out of spite. He ignored the greetings of his cats to sit on the couch and start reading.

It was dark by the time Q finished; he stared at the wall across from him, deep in thought. The problem was that he really liked it, this was what he had waited almost ten years for. It wasn’t fair that it had to happen right now, that he had to know what he knew now. James had written this, had written all of them and he had lied about it. He had teased Q about liking these books. He had probably been writing this one while they were living together. The bastard.

Q looked down at the book again and opened it, this time it opened to the dedication page which Lighter - James- had never put in his books before.

‘Let’s try not to mark this one up, alright? -J’

The bastard. Of course James would make him smile at a time like this. He would see what this was, if you were to consider the fact that James had been wooing him for a while, this was the last piece, the last gift he could give.

The story is about a still heart broken Ian Fleming, grieving from the death of his previous girlfriend, takes his real love, Ann, to a vacation house in Jamaica called Goldeneye. Of course, his leave from Naval Intelligence was short lived as he must deal with a potential nuclear incident in South America, while leaving Ann alone to deal with her jealous ex-lover Esmond who had come to Jamaica to kill Fleming and get Ann back.

What caught Q’s attention was the new character in this book. Besides Fleming, his lover, and the villain, the only other characters were the head of Naval Intelligence, Godfrey, and his lovely and capable assistant, Monday. Now there was a new character, a young and clever hacker hired to help Fleming with his mission. Q didn't need to ask who was the inspiration for that character. James had written him into the book.

Q didn't return to MI6, trying to decide exactly what to do about this situation. Part of him wasn't even that upset, it wasn't like Q had told James everything about himself. But this seemed a bit too close to home, these books meant a lot of Q and they were practically the reason James and Q had gotten together in the first place.

A text from Eve came the next day, Q had reread the book again and was reluctant to look at it because he knew it was going to ask him what was wrong.

Bond is awake. -EM

He’s asking for you. -EM

Please put us out of our misery. -EM

Before he was able to respond, Q got a call, “Hello?”

“Good, Bond is asking for you. Has been since he woke up three hours ago.” Eve intoned, James said something in the background and then was shushed.

“Tell him I know.” Was all Q said, waiting to see what James’ reaction would be. He heard Eve repeat the message and heard James swear, scrambling to get the phone.

“Q, wait-“ Q hung up, laying back on the couch and ignored the ringing of his phone when James tried to call him back.

It took two weeks for Medical to let James go and Q hadn’t seen him in all that time. They haven’t spoken either. Q pointedly ignored Medical on his way through the office and the concerned looks of all his collages. But he had started to miss James, not that he would admitted it at first, the cats were more vocal about it than he was. There was a tug, like a string tied between them that Q couldn’t seem to get away from. He admitted that it was a little too _Jane Eyre_ for him. The intimacy was missing, the force that held them together even before there was a kiss between them. Q craved it.

Q was not surprised to find James in his flat one evening when he got home from work. He was on the floor with the cats, seeming to have a good time as the cats climbed all over him.

“What are you doing here?

“I live here.”

“I don’t believe we ever made that agreement.”

James just looked at him because all of James’ things were here and James had made this his forwarding address.

Q sighed and started for the bedroom, “Your books are still in the box in the kitchen.”

“I know. I saw one was missing.” James was right behind him and Q shivered a little, wanting to lean back into his warm body. Q was trapped there between the door to the bedroom and James. This closeness felt familiar, it was pleasant. “I assume you liked it.”

“You lied to me. My opinion on the book hardly matters.”

“I wrote you into it, I think your opinion matters a great deal.” James said, a little hurt. “Q look at me.”

Q turned slowly, lips pressed together. “It was exactly what I wanted from Andrew Lighter. Horrible name by the way.”

James smiled, “If I apologized and promised that’s the only secret I’ve kept from you, would you forgive me?”

Q gave him a long look, “If you promise never to write another one. And never to get shot again and spend two weeks in the hospital.”

James nodded, moving in to close the space between them, the space that was full of electric air that is now making its way into Q’s chest. This must be what butterflies feel like.

“May I kiss you?”

“If you feel you must.”

James was on him in a second, their lips fitting together perfectly.

“Wasn’t Goldeneye one of your missions?” Q asked, amused as James opened the door to the bedroom and pushed him in.

“Yes but I thought it would make a nice name for a tropical vacation house.” He smiled, closing the door behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hoped you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. The picture this is based on is in the next chapter. It's lovely. I do want to say a few things about James' books.  
> 1\. James stopped writing when he became a 00, basically the beginning of Casino Royale.  
> 2\. I think I'm terribly funny so I made James write Ian Fleming's story based on his instead of the other way around.  
> 3\. Most of my knowledge of Fleming comes from the BBC miniseries. Which you all should watch.  
> 4\. Fleming's wife Ann did have a lover name Esmond when they first met, Ann later left Esmond for Fleming.  
> 5\. Fleming's vacation house in Jamaica was called Goldeneye, he wrote all his books there.  
> 6\. Fleming did work for Naval Intelligence, where he served under Godfey and created his famous commandos.  
> 7\. I'm a little obsessed with this man's life story.  
> 8\. James' Goldeneye book is completely fictional though, Fleming marries Ann and Esmond was out of the picture before they honeymooned at Goldeneye.


	2. Q and Bond exchange banters in one of Q’s book

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By Lamb.

**Author's Note:**

> I hoped you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. I do want to say a few things about James' books.  
> 1\. James stopped writing when he became a 00, basically the beginning of Casino Royale.  
> 2\. I think I'm terribly funny so I made James write Ian Fleming's story based on his instead of the other way around.  
> 3\. Most of my knowledge of Fleming comes from the BBC miniseries. Which you all should watch.  
> 4\. Fleming's wife Ann did have a lover name Esmond when they first met, Ann later left Esmond for Fleming.  
> 5\. Fleming's vacation house in Jamaica was called Goldeneye, he wrote all his books there.  
> 6\. Fleming did work for Naval Intelligence, where he served under Godfey and created his famous commandos.  
> 7\. I'm a little obsessed with this man's life story.  
> 8\. James' Goldeneye book is completely fictional though, Fleming marries Ann and Esmond was out of the picture before they honeymooned at Goldeneye.


End file.
